Pet
by xoxosusiexoxo
Summary: The decrepit streets were smelly. That unpleasant detail was the first thing that made any sense to him and thus it struck him as the most important. Of course it would be gross and stink. His parents had informed him that it was an awful place. What they didn't tell him was how claustrophobic he'd feel walking through them.
1. Prologue

((A/N: Thank you very much for beta help Rabid33, deliriumofsorts, SecretFan17, xalior, and XI-Am-ObsessedX))

* * *

Kyle Broflovski thought life was simple.

 _What an intolerable stench._

Houses, or what could be houses, hugged the stone cobbles on the narrow lane. Damp from the recent showers and peeling wherever possible; the buildings hardly looked stable. None of that really entered his mind. There was a much more pressing issue that struck his sensibilities.

The decrepit streets were _smelly_. That unpleasant detail was the first thing that made any sense to him and thus it struck him as the most important. Of course it would be gross and stink. His parents had informed him that it was an awful place. What they didn't tell him was how claustrophobic he'd feel walking through them. The tight bends making up the dank road didn't give him much else to go off of. It was dark and unpleasant; every stone, nook, and cranny seemed to hide something moving just out of the corner of his eye.

The only pleasant thing on the lane were the streetlights, pristine and new, somehow out of place with their elaborate lamps and warm lights. They could have been comforting if they weren't so alarmingly out of place.

It gave Kyle chills. He hated disharmony like that.

 _I can't wait until we can go home_.

They were getting farther away from home. Away from the large buildings and kept streets and into the this strange labyrinth of unfamiliar buildings.

His mom had him clutched tightly at her side with his younger brother held to her chest. Her eyes darted to every corner with suspicion. It was such a stark contrast to how his father walked; confidently, mindlessly of his wife and children, with something judgmental in his eyes.

The way he kept his back straight made Kyle do the same — mimicking his father before he'd realized that that was what he was doing. If his father stood with his nose upturned to their surroundings, so did Kyle.

A particularly jerky movement from one of the many dancing shadows caught Kyle's attention as he walked and he locked eyes with a piercing, icy blue gaze. It was such a stark contrast to the dank colorless streets that it stopped him in his tracks.

No emotion swam in its depths. Not the naive happiness like his brother, the tight disdain like his father, or the fearful suspicion like his mother.

These eyes were empty.

Dead?

No. Kyle could see them move, briefly, assessing the situation before focusing again on Kyle's own startled expression.

He tugged on his mother's side, voice lost in the sudden fear of those icy depths. What could be looking at him with such intense _nothing_? Was it even _real_?

"Bubbala? What is it?" her voice was soft but edged with anxiety.

He tried to find the words. To even find the strength to point.

He was frozen, and his breath had been stolen.

His mother spoke again but the words fell on numb ears and crashed to the cobbles- it forced her to tug his arm and drag his eyes away.

An instant. He couldn't have looked away for more than an instant.

In that time, the blue was gone and there was nothing but the dark stench of the disgusting road. No sign of those haunting eyes.

Kyle shivered and cuddled closer to his mother, forgetting entirely to mimic his father's stiff march. His father had managed to get a few yards ahead while they dallied, and his mother hurried him to catch up.

Kyle moved his feet forward clumsily but dared not to look up from the folds of his mother's dress. No matter how important his father claimed these appearances were, he hated going to the lower town. He hated all the skittering people and horrible smells. Hadn't any of these people ever heard of a _bath_? On one previous occasion, he'd stepped on a suspicious yellow liquid and he still hadn't recovered from the horrified shock that it had caused him.

These people were no better than animals.

Kyle considered life to be simple because for him, it was. He listened to his parents and lived a life of luxury. At the age of six, he'd never once thought to question his reality.

* * *

Some people quite enjoy causing others to question reality.

Supernatural.

The term describes beings outside of common understanding. Thereby, what is considered supernatural can obviously fluctuate with time and research. Aliens are a popular concept; some people even think the dead can be risen.

However, if an alien were to actually crawl down your chimney and eat Santa's cookies, whether or not it were taken seriously would also be dependent on the witness, the amount of evidence available, the likelihood of a prank, and of course, the prevalence of the phenomenon.

It's much easier for the human mind to accept that their fellow man is having a delusion than it is for them to accept that the supernatural has become just another natural course of events.

Undeniable proof is infrequent in this field. Some conspiracy theorists like to use alternative realities to base their hypotheses on. Maybe, in some world far away, there was only one kind of sapient logically thinking two-legged animal. Maybe in another universe, vampires are considered some sort of supernatural myth.

Maybe in some insane version of reality lycans are the only intelligent species to walk the Earth. Maybe in another reality aliens really do exist and crawl down chimneys in order to steal cookies.

Gerald Broflovski liked conspiracy theories though. He loved getting a rise out of people. It was a hobby of his to make mad claims such as the alien thing and leave them as notes randomly scattered across underdeveloped and uneducated areas. He'd gotten lucky a few times now, fooling just enough people into believing his insane claims that the theories spread.

It was a challenge unlike any he had ever faced to keep a straight face when, during a dinner party, Stephen Stotch brought up the theory about alternate realities, as though he were quoting from an academic source.

He'd feigned a coughing fit and excused himself from the table.

Of course Gerald wasn't insane. He knew that in reality 'supernatural' events just didn't happen. There were only three bipedal species with any grain of intelligence in them and honestly, that was giving the other two too much credit in his opinion.

Did the lycan and humans _really_ count as intelligent? The lycan had _some_ redeeming features, even if he personally found them to be disgusting lower beings, but _humans_? Gerald rolled his eyes at the mere thought of the groveling pigs who lay in the street of the lower town.

Pathetic. Livestock at absolute best. Useless carriers of illness at worst.

For those precise reasons, Gerald had decided ages ago that he would acquire pets for his sons. No need to risk catching some disgusting infection off the street. No complications or scandals. Just a safe source of food that could be easily maintained.

He was a man of means; he could easily afford the cost. As soon as his sons were weaned off of their mother's blood and away from cows, it was time for a pet.

Gerald had long since considered getting one for him and his wife, but Sheila actually preferred the taste of cow blood and he hadn't yet gotten up the guts to tell her that he didn't.

Sheila was a complicated woman to disagree with.

Luckily she agreed with them over getting their sons pets. The mere idea that they might risk infections or disease by trying human blood in an unsafe environment set off every alarm for her.

And, if Gerald reasoned, he could probably sneak a drink or two from the pet when no one was paying attention.

* * *

The concerns of the malicious upper class are just a microcosm of the variety of problems in the world. While there were no shortages of well bred bastards such as Gerald Broflovski, there were plenty of problems his well-educated elite mind would have great difficulty comprehending.

What exactly the word _hunger_ really means, for starters. Those problems felt by those out of his sight. In another part of the city, a young boy waited anxiously.

Kevin counted under his breath, waiting for the signal from his little brother.

His acids gnawed at whichever part of his stomach lining seemed the most edible. It was a familiar enough sensation that he didn't mind it — he just worried about the sound it might create if his stomach turned.

A sound which could alert the stall below him to his presence and ruin any hope they had of making it out of this unscathed.

 _Five, four_ …

Oh his stomach was going to make this challenging.

He clenched it in hopes of hiding any noise.

He could see Kenny approach from below, just out of sight of the stall vender. Crouched and ready.

 _Three, two, one_.

Time.

Kenny locked eyes with him and with the signal he untied the knot holding up the shade. It dropped the same instance that Kevin began his sprint across the roof. He knew that below the now confused and temporarily blinded vendor, Kenny was gathering fruit into his satchel and making his own escape.

He heard an angry scream and paused, only a moment, before forcing his feet forward. He couldn't help Kenny if he was caught. He couldn't.

He had to make it back home. Little baby Karen wouldn't make it through the night if neither of her brothers made it back.

He had to run.

He swallowed the stomach acid that was attempting to eat him alive and escape the impending danger.

The tiles of the roof cut through his calluses and into the flesh beneath, leaving drops of blood leading to his destination. It didn't matter. If anyone was following him, they would have an easier time following the grime that coated his feet.

Or maybe the the icy sweat that trailed behind him. It was too cold in the winter for sweat. He was too dehydrated to lose the water. His fear, the adrenaline, and the need to make it away safely all made the salty water escape from his pores.

Not that Kevin was aware of any of this. The poor boy was as dim as they come. Only aware of the need to run and the fear of loss. Only aware that his stomach hurt, his head was spinning, and the edge of the roof was coming up.

He tripped.

Falling over the ledge and into the waiting alleyway.

Death or injury awaited him and all for a few apples and a potato, if they were lucky.

Kevin's eyes clenched shut. He wouldn't look death in the eye. He couldn't bare to.

" _Ooph_!"

Kevin cracked an eye open. The hard ground never found him. He was on top of something soft, a satchel of fruits and vegetables lying nearby and the metallic smell of something nauseating filling his senses.

He stood up, confused, and looked around the alleyway for any trace of his brother. Perhaps the boy had stashed the goods here and continued his escape? That made sense. He picked up the satchel and started out of the alleyway before stopping.

What could have softened his fall?

The cobblestones of the alley shouldn't have been so soft.

He should have looked back, looked down, but he couldn't.

In the back of his mind he felt there was something _bad_ he would see if he turned around, and he couldn't question it.

He had to get home to his sister. Kenny would catch up later.

He was sure of it.

* * *

Being sure of facts, even when they are demonstratively wrong, is an advantage that not everyone in this twisted world can really hold any faith in.

Another involuntary jolt shot through his system in perfect step with the panicked thoughts assailing him. The step he'd just taken, one he'd been so sure of mere moments ago, made his stomach drop to his toes. Was this truly the best course of action? Could anything be the best course of action?

Paralysis and panic.

Tweek Tweak was young enough that it truly seemed unreasonable for him to be questioning something so simple.

All lycan needed to practice making the change. It was a normal part of the developmental process.

Everyone assured him it was normal. Normal, normal, normal. _Do it faster, Tweek. Don't be so scared, Tweek._

Yet, everything in his body felt on edge, convulsing with a bone-deep panic that he couldn't shake.

He turned to his father once more, the empty smile of encouragement causing him to cringe. "It feels weird. _Gah_ , can we please do this later?!"

He couldn't properly modulate his voice. That wasn't really anything new, but it struck him as particularly disturbing in this instance.

His hands were furry and his spine had extended into a tail, but every fiber of his being screamed to turn around. His father's mouth opened to respond but Tweek interjected quickly, speaking too fast to be truly understood, "I can't do this!"

"You will." His father's voice wasn't firm— it was the same coated syrup he used with customers.

"I won't!" he argued, he knew what he was capable of! He wasn't dumb! He wasn't crazy!

His body was rejecting the transformation, he didn't know how he knew but he _knew_.

He knew, he knew, he knew.

"Think of what the neighbors would say." His father knelt down and Tweek could smell his disapproval. Disappointment.

He could always smell it.

"Why are they talking about _me_?! I'm not interesting, this isn't interesting! They should mind their own business!" He tried to find the words, the ones that could somehow dissuade his father's made up mind. "I can't do it! There's something _wrong_..."

His father didn't let him finish, cutting in sharply with a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "Tweek. This isn't up for debate."

Tweek knew it wasn't. It never was. He'd never gotten anyone to listen. Just listen. All he wanted was to be heard. Why wouldn't they just listen? He wasn't crazy! He wasn't! He knew his own body, he _knew_.

"Tweek," His father warned.

Tweek just closed his eyes, breathing out through his mouth in one long exhale.

He let himself believe for a second that he was wrong. It was just his imagination making a mountain out of an ant-hill. He just felt funny because he'd never forced a transformation before.

Everyone said it was normal. Maybe everyone was right.

He held back tears and accepted that he must be wrong. He had to be. His father wouldn't make him do something dangerous.

With another shuddery breath and full body jolt, Tweek listened to his father.

And made the worst mistake of his entire life.

* * *

The true height and scale of mistakes are measured on a subjective scales. While Tweek's would be considered hefty by most any standard, Damien Thorn was prepared to make even bigger ones in the name of progress.

His father was gutless. Pathetic. Creating a hierarchy and just leaving it to decay was a lazy use of power. The only way to truly rule was to have absolute control over the mindless peons below without allowing them delusions of grandeur.

Damion clenched his tiny fists. He was still too small to make any difference.

The maids scattered at the sight of his petulant march through the halls, eyes blazing with intent.

Alone in a house this large with no one but servants to entertain him.

The window in the hall offered him a wide view of the city below, expansive and endless, from the large buildings of those who thought that they possessed power to the hoveled huts in the distance, marking the lower town.

They were all pathetic.

 _I could crush them all._

He wanted to, more than anything. From the 'nobles' his father entertained, stroking their tiny egos, to the swine living in the gutters. They didn't deserve to breathe the same air as him.

Mistakes are funny things in that the scale of them can often be determined by the amount of power in every individual's grasp.

If one had the power, the means, and temperament, the scale of the mistake could grow to unimaginable heights.

Damion didn't think about mistakes. He thought about how he could do it better. About how he'd always been able to do it better. About the disappointment he felt for his father's lax rule. About the changes he would make the moment he took the throne.

He turned away from the window with all the feeble humans, lycans, and vampires. He was above them. He was more powerful.

And with his only parental figure out for a evening of regret, Damion marched to the library.

He was about to make a huge mistake. One that would cost him dearly and everyone else even more so.

To his small mind, thoughts of error were nonexistent.

 _I know what must be done_.

The road to hell is paved with confidence.


	2. Chapter 1

Kyle was promised a huge surprise for his eighth birthday. He was expecting something amazing or fun. A toy or travel plans.

What he got was a huge responsibility.

* * *

The lower town consisted of the castaways and the homeless. That much made sense to those of higher birth. However, if it were that subjection of people alone it wouldn't be so overpopulated. In the same hovel of the less fortunate was also everyone who could not afford to live in the upper town. The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, and of course the guy with no legs. All attempting to scrape by under the weight of economic disparity.

The area contained the majority of the population. Child mortality rate was at an all time high due to contaminated water and limited access to food and medical care. Adults weren't all that better with life expectancy, hitting the forties and declining as time went on due to both living conditions and the occasional unreported murder.

There was really no point in reporting it.

There were only two options to escape this hellhole: marry big or sell yourself. Neither were easy to achieve or even all that more preferable to the squalor.

One could live and die in filth or be a prisoner of those who were of higher birth.

Being a _pet_ was one of the few methods of selling yourself that offered any real benefits. Your family would receive a stipend and your life expectancy would go up significantly.

The only catch were the requirements for the position. Things like _perfect health_ weren't easy from a gutter.

Kenneth McCormick was lucky. He didn't have to worry about disease. Well, he did — he'd already died four times this year from a variety of infections but he always came back as good as new.

He just had to time it properly. If he died at _just_ the right moment, his newly regenerated body would be in perfect condition.

He hated the idea. Like most children, he had dreams and ambitions; things he would prefer to do or people he would prefer to be with than whichever snobby bastard bought him.

His sister's cough hadn't gone away in three days. Every time her body wracked with pain as yet more infected germs clogged her throat, he could feel his entire body flinch in sympathy.

He was out of time to put it off. They needed the money for a doctor.

"That's crazy."

Kevin looked at his brother and saw determination. The two were crouched in a corner away from Karen's bed, trying to keep their voices low. Kevin felt his heart drop to his stomach at Kenny's expression.

"I'll go instead!"

Kenny shook his head and took Kevin's hand. It was shaking. Or maybe they were both shaking.

"You would never get accepted. You know that."

"You wouldn't either!" Kevin protested, squeezing his younger brothers hand now in fear.

He knew his baby brother. It was rare for him to grow this determined over anything but once he'd made up his mind...

Kevin's mind flashed to at least a dozen times his brother had made the seemingly impossible happen. It built a lump in his throat.

" _No_."

Kenny shook his head and smiled at his brother, "I've gotta."

The blond boy looked up at their sleeping sister. Kevin's eyes followed and it broke his heart to see her shiver under the lack of sheets.

"For her."

Kevin swallowed a lump that threatened the remainder of his composure.

"Kenny..." he begged, one last attempt to fight the inevitable, "Please, no."

 _What if I lose you both_?

Kenny smiled but it did not make it to his eyes. They are the bluest things that Kevin had ever seen. It was entirely unlike the brown eyes he and his sister had. It was so incredibly blue and soon, if Kenny has his way, it will be gone from his life.

Forever.

He didn't like to cry in front of his siblings. He was the oldest. He wanted to be the strongest. He wanted to be the strongest so badly it hurt.

That wasn't him though.

Kenny had always been stronger than him and Karen, was smarter than them both. He was big and dumb, and he couldn't do anything to protect either of his siblings.

The tears were big and burned his cheeks on the way down; one dislodged some dirt by his eyelashes and caused it to mix in and the pain made him cry harder, desperately biting his fist to hold in the sobs.

Kenny held his hand and said nothing. Just let him grieve the loss he would never be able to recover from.

* * *

The water was cold before it was warm. Kenny was made relatively sure that it wasn't a concession made for his comfort but rather for the countless gloved hands now scrubbing at him relentlessly.

"Stay still," one ordered in time with another, shoving the course material of some sort of scrubber betweeen his buttcheeks. Kenny tried not to squirm but found he didn't really have enough time to register that discomfort. Another scrubber had found his arm pits and someone else was nearly pulling his hair out. Kenny slammed his eyes shut just before a wet and soapy liquid ran down his lids.

They really were aiming for every inch of him.

It was an odd sort of terror. They were already scrubbing his face so he couldn't open his eyes He felt weightless and pulled in every direction. At the mercy of whatever these strangers might do or however they might decide to treat him.

He found himself accepting it. Holding his breath and waiting for whatever was to come, trying not to tense his muscles, every time he did they were rougher in order to twist his body in the direction they needed. If his arm was too stiff, they would jerk it roughly with a warning, ' _Move!',_ so hard he wondered a few times if the limb would get torn off.

Every second was followed by an even more violating one. His body was sore with the rough treatment but they were eager to scrub and re-scrub everywhere. He could feel the beginnings of a rash on his neck from the attention.

Then more cold water was dumped on him. He dared to squint, opening his eyes only to flinch back involuntarily as yet more hands reached out.

" _Hold still_ ," one said. Kenny forced himself to still as several more sponges descended. He squeezed his eyes shut.

A finger wiggled around in his nose and took its contents. Something small swiveled around in his ear. A sharp pain brought him back to the nose as some nostril hair was ripped out. Something that felt sharp was grazing under his toe and fingernails. Kenny realized that moving in this situation might result in actual injury.

If he started bleeding here, would they descend on him in a blood frenzy like how the stories said? Would he be murdered and forced to repeat this entire horrible affair?

A sponge was not so gently cleaning every wrinkle on his balls, and he held in the flinch of pain. He wanted to run. The overly clinical and invasive 'cleaning' was too much.

Someone actually jerked his dick to the side and he let out a whimper of pain. It caused another one of them to cram something in his mouth.

For a brief moment of terror he wondered what it was before he tasted the mint and bristles.

"Open wider." The snappish response was so agitated. Kenny couldn't even think to disobey.

Not that he would. He'd chosen this. He tried over and over again to remind himself that this was the path he'd _chosen_. The situation he wanted to create.

The brush was pushed so deep into the back of his throat that he gagged. The jolt made another one of them hold his face still with vice-like strength.

He couldn't move a single toe he realized. Every part of him had some attention being paid and any movement would be met by reprimand or more pain. Usually both.

He tried not to gag when the toothbrush hit the back of his throat again, he failed but it didn't matter. They had him so secured that even gagging caused no jolting movement.

Claustrophobia suddenly assailed him. He couldn't _move_. Not a single inch. He couldn't _move_. Was he even still alive? The random pricks of pain reminded him that he had to be but it felt like every bit of autonomy had been taken away.

Was this what his life would be from now on? Every movement dictated? Scrubbed clean until he felt like he would bleed?

Was he going to be trapped inside his body like a motionless doll who existed for a single purpose?

He accepted this.

Another wave of cool water. He didn't even bother opening his eyes this time.

He _thought_ he'd accepted this. He didn't know what it would truly entail and the lack of information ran circles around his imagination, building up the fear until he wasn't sure how to handle it.

Screaming seemed the only sane thing to do, but he dared not even move the muscles in his throat.

Round three was when he started trying to dissociate from his body. Find a way to somehow not be living in his own skin.

Round three was when Kenny found a way to cope with the pain and hopelessness of the situation. As they pulled at his hair and invaded his crevices with their instruments, stinging soap making it's nasty taste into his mouth, the creatures controlling him not caring in the least about the mixture of paste with soap.

He focused on a spot of light behind his own eye and tried to track it down. Tried to find its source and stare it down.

It helped, if only a little. But the cleaning had only begun.

* * *

White walls and white ceiling. Kenny's fingers traced the wall while others milled about. It wasn't a cage but there was no clear way out of the room and, realistically, no reason he should try escaping.

The blond boy felt raw. He'd swear an entire layer of skin had been scrubbed off in the cleaning process. It could have felt refreshing if not for the tingly pain that accompanied it.

Shadows made indistinct patterns on the walls, it made it difficult to determine a light source and even more difficult for him to see the other people as anything but soulless wraiths.

Was he just a soulless wraith now?

It was a daunting feeling to look around and see figures just as clean and just as empty, wandering or sitting but no one looked directly at one another. White walls, a white ceiling, and white cloth concealing empty humans.

Were they in despair?

...was he?

Kenny sat against the wall and winced as it reminded him how sore he was.

It wasn't a sort of sore he'd experienced before. He was used to feeling sick or gross. He'd felt his own skin flayed from his bones.

He hadn't felt this strange dissociation with his own body. It didn't feel like his body anymore. There was nothing to remind him of his identity.

He was a blond boy in a white room surrounded by wraiths. The thought struck him so severely he curled in on himself. Hiding his face in his knees and wishing the world away.

He felt impossibly small in a world that would take all of his autonomy away. They had already taken it from him.

He was scared if he opened his mouth all he would do was scream.

Was that why the wraiths were so silent? Were they holding in screams of their own?

A door opened soundlessly. The only tell being the sound of confident steps and arrogant voices.

"...s you can see, we have a variety of shapes and sizes available."

"I'm just browsing for today, my wife insisted I do some research." There was a pause for the men to chuckle at the absurdity of women, "It's actually for my son. He's not going to be needing it for a few years now."

"Oh! Actually, it's much better to acquire a pet a few years earlier."

The man sounded puzzled, "Why? Won't it just take up space?"

"You know how those early years are, hormones going wild and your body is going through all sorts of changes."

They shared a laugh again. "Boy, do I ever."

"Well, especially for those early years there's more likely to be… accidents," the man made it sound so flippant. He was referring to deaths as though they were as simple as stubbing a toe, "When a pet is introduced earlier, kids grow attached and they're less likely to ruin a good investment."

"I don't know if I want my son growing attached to one of these…" his voice stopped, searching for a word that could bequeath a sufficient amount of disgust, " _Things_."

The salesman chuckled, "While I understand your concern, I wouldn't get too worried about that. It's more akin to the attachment a child would feel towards a favorite toy."

"Is that so?" the man sounded like he was coming around and the specific tenor of interest filled the room with anxiety.

The men weren't at all affected, but to the products for sale, the realization that one would be leaving this cage entered their awareness.

As horrible as the white walls and cleaning experience had been, nothing was worse than the terror of the unknown.

Kenny was not immune to that trill of panic, clenching his eyes shut and willing himself to be smaller. Invisible.

"Maybe I should get him one early…" there was too much intrigued delight in that voice for comfort — it was sinister. "It's about time he was old enough to start learning responsibility too. This could be good for him."

The salesmen clapped. "What sort of pet are you looking for?" he whistled and all the wraiths knew what it meant.

Lining up one by one, daring not even to look up from the ground and into the face of despair. Kenny found himself following along numbly. He couldn't recall when he stood but he could see his own feet and the feet of those standing nearby.

The man hummed, "What would you recommend?"

"How old is your son? It's best to get one around the same age or younger, so that it lasts for as long as possible."

"I hadn't thought about that. That makes a lot of sense though. He turns eight next month. Do you have one in that range?"

Kenny couldn't feel his feet. He couldn't even remember his own age. He knew with certainty he was within the _range_ though and it made bile move into his throat. He tried to remember if he'd seen other children milling about but the wraiths looked ageless to him. Figureless. Indistinct.

He didn't dare look up to find out for fear of drawing attention to himself.

"We have a few."

 _No, no, no..._

"Numbers thirteen, eight, twenty-four, and nineteen."

 _No, no, no_...

Dread fueling every step, Kenny responded to his assigned number listening to the sound of shuffling nearby. They stepped forward and stood in a line as instructed.

He could see feet smaller than his own to his left.

His own fear doubled at the knowledge. _Last as long as possible_. _They want us to last as long as possible._

It filled him with a special dread. One unlike his previous terror.

The fear he'd felt when he told his brother what he had to do.

Acceptance.

Kenny looked away from the tiny feet and up to the face of his new _master_.

The brown haired man was busy looking over each of the tiny forms, looking for abnormalities on a scale Kenny couldn't possibly understand.

The salesman was rattling off points as they went, this one is a specific breed or gender of 'human'. This one could be trained to do this or that.

Kenny held his gaze firm, waiting for the attention that would eventually fall on him.

The man's eyes eventually locked with his own and his eyebrow quirked upwards, surprised at the attention.

Kenny couldn't speak. He'd scream.

He couldn't move. He'd run.

He looked up and allowed his eyes to transfer the message.

 _Pick me_.

"What about this one?" the man sounded quizzical. Confused. Curious.

"Male. Obedient. It actually volunteered for the program, which is unusual for its age." the salesman flipped through some papers, "It doesn't talk much. We're not sure if it can talk."

Something distinctly sinister flashed in the man's eyes, "Really? That's interesting."

They were going to move on. To where the tiny feet were.

Kenny couldn't let that happen.

The feet were smaller than Karen's.

He couldn't speak. He'd scream.

He couldn't move. He'd run.

He hated the man in front of him more than he'd hated anything in his entire life.

It was an act of desperation. One last attempt to draw the horrible mans attention away from the nubile option.

He tilted his head to the side and exposed as much of his neck as possible. It was enough to bring even the salesman's rambling to a halt.

"I haven't seen that before... " he remarked, eyes trained on Kenny.

It was a senseless sacrifice. If Kenny had been thinking he would have known that postponing the child's purchase wouldn't save them. Perhaps an even more deplorable creep would walk in here the second Kenny was walked out and immediately zero in on the youngest child in the room.

Kenny couldn't get those tiny feet out of his head.. He couldn't stop imagining they were Karen's. He couldn't stop the sense of blinding fear that he couldn't protect his sister.

It was a senseless act but ultimately effective.

The man only looked over the smaller child briefly before looking back to Kenny.

His gaze felt like maggots crawling over raw flesh. Kenny fought not to look away. Fought not to scream. Fought not to run.

"This one might be a good fit for us." he said finally, turning back to the salesman. "I need to talk over the purchase with my wife. Can you put it on hold?"

"Certainly!" The conversation developed into shop talk and the others were allowed to mill around the room freely.

Kenny stood, still as a statue and feeling impossibly small. His limited power had only bought the other children _time,_ and who could even know how long that would last?

He didn't regret his decision yet. This man made him sick, but he would do it all over again if it meant standing in between a defenseless kid and this creep.

The man smiled as he talked. It was a tight and calculating grin full of arrogance.

He started yet another battle to hold in bile.

A blond pet in a white room, bought and sold. No name. No identity.

No home.

* * *

 _He's scrawny._

Kyle furrowed his brow and watched as the other boy was forcefully ushered towards him, his parents matching expressions of expectation doing absolutely nothing to ease the tension building inside him.

 _He looks dirty_.

"Kyle, bubbala, this is your pet." His mother's voice was honey coated with excitement and nerves.

"You have to feed it and keep it alive," his father admonished sternly before cracking into his own excited smile, "This is a big step. You're being trusted with a huge responsibility."

Kyle wasn't as excited. Neither was his new pet.

Shocking blue eyes stared at him wearily from behind layer upon layer of fabric. It struck him as familiar in a stomach tossing way.

"Can I get a different one?" he didn't mean to sound quite so petulant but there wasn't any stopping it after it had come out.

Sheila's smile dropped as she looked at her son, automatically taking on a the stern posture she adopted before a lecture.

Kyle didn't want to hear it. He just didn't want this pet. He turned a pleading look towards his father, his last hope of escape.

Gerald shrugged helplessly out of Sheila's view, careful to keep his options as open as possible. Stay on his wife's side but let her take the brunt of whatever fall out might occur with their children. A coward's ploy.

The whole family looked at odds but unwilling to argue.

Kenny didn't respond in the slightest. Silent and keeping his eyes on all the very dangerous people present. People he would be forced to call 'master' from this day forward.

A cold pit sat in his stomach.

Did he have to say that?

Did he have to say anything at all?

Pets are, after all, unable to communicate. If that's what he was from this day forward, what use was it to pretend he was human?

"Kyle, you need to understand how serious this is." Sheila began, pushing Kenny forward to make her point, "This creature is your _responsibility_ from this day forward. Without you, it would die."

"Which is exactly why I'm telling you I want a different one!" Kyle burst, unable to contain himself despite the thin ice already cracking beneath him. "It's weird looking!"

Kenny kept his stare even, not even twitching in response.

"They're all weird looking." Gerald amended, gently, "And we can't just return it or exchange it. It doesn't work like that, Buddy."

Kyle frowned, turning his head to glare at Kenny as if he was the cause of all of this.

Kenny offered nothing in response. A blank stare and empty silence.

 _I hate it._ Kyle bit down the remark, knowing that even one more comment would result in his mother's wrath.

"Do you understand now, Bubbala?"

He nodded tersely and held out his hand to the pet, "I'm Kyle. What's your name?"

The words had barely gotten out of him before his father's chiding voice interjected, "There's no need for that. It's your pet, you can call it whatever you like." His voice dipped with seriousness, "It's dangerous to treat it as anything more."

Kyle's hand dropped to his side and still, _still_ the scrawny creature said nothing. Was it mute?

From the first time he was introduced to his pet, Kyle knew it would be a long, miserable, and unpleasant experience.

Kenny didn't need to meet his new 'master' to know this as truth, but it was certainly reaffirmed by the snotty brat literally upturning his nose as he swept away from the scene, gesturing for Kenny to follow.

He was almost tempted to stand there dumbly, let this Kyle kid look like an idiot as he stormed off. As obnoxious as Kyle seemed though, no one was worse than the way Gerald still made him uneasy.

He followed silently after the brat, trying not to let his eagerness to get away from the adults too obvious. There was a dark-haired boy peeking into the front hall from another room but Kenny tried not to look at him.

He tried not to look anywhere but the sweeping figure of agitation he was supposed to listen to from now on, but it was somewhat difficult.

To say this house was beyond his expectations would be a huge understatement. It was well beyond even his imagination of what to expect.

The ceiling was decorated with patterns and art, adorned with light that was equally intricate. He had no word for the distended source of light covered in gems and golden weaves but he found everything about it entrancing. He could follow the patterns all the way up the chain that held it from the ceiling and branching out from there all the way to the walls.

The huge hall had walls with golden patterns and gorgeous paintings. Some were of scenery from places Kenny could scarcely imagine. Some were of his new masters. The walls led to furniture that Kenny longed to touch. Designs that matched the intricate handiwork from the ceiling and all sorts of interesting trinkets that were probably worth more than his own life just resting there for anyone to take.

If he was still in the business of pickpocketing for their next meal, he would have pocketed anything that wasn't nailed down.

It was no wonder this strange system fed his entire family and gave them a stipend. These creatures had enough to set Kenny's family for life just in their front hall.

The bitter thought reminded Kenny precisely what he was supposed to be doing and he looked for the red-headed brat he'd been following only to find the hall empty. There were no adults. No children. He couldn't even see the front door.

Had he taken a wrong turn while staring at the horrible magnificence of the house?

Kenny's earlier fears crawled up from his toes and made his skin crawl. He felt like the walls were watching him. He most likely wasn't supposed to be alone here.

He was going to get in trouble. What sort of punishment would these creatures issue? He searched with his eyes for anything familiar but it was all the same familiar gorgeous patterns. He had no idea which direction had led him here.

Something tugged at his pant leg and he yelped, looking down into dark eyes and a curious face.

It was the boy who had peeked. He must have followed him.

"Hewwo!" the boy gurgled, smiling toothly and revealing his enlarged canines.

Kenny almost pulled his leg away in fear. What if it bit his leg? What if he was eaten in some empty hall away from all witnesses?

The boy frowned at Kenny's nonexistence response, trying again with a new tug, "Hewwo!"

The sound was what did it.

Kenny knelt down and took in the boys appearance, only a bit younger than Karen, "Hello."

His voice felt hoarse from disuse. It satisfied his little stalker though and the smile widened again.

"Ike!" he cried, pointing to himself. Kenny wondered if he hadn't learned to form complete sentences yet.

He smiled softly, as terrible as all this was, this child hadn't done anything to him as of yet and a part of him longed for the companionship he'd lost with his own siblings.

"Kenny." he replied while holding out his hand. The child gripped it eagerly, clearly having no idea it was an attempt at a hand shake and having the time of his life playing with Kenny's palm.

He could easily remember when Karen was this small. It wasn't that long ago.

She smiled more back then. The world hadn't given her as many reasons to frown. It hadn't given her a reason to cough yet either.

"What are you doing?"

Kenny froze, there was so much accusation in that voice he couldn't do anything but stare into the eyes of the child who also looked alarmed.

The march of footsteps all too close is what drew them to look up though and into Kyle's blaring eyes.

"Don't touch my brother!" Kyle ordered and turned his offended look to Ike, "Don't touch my pet! Mom and dad got it for _me_ , not you!"

Kenny withdrew his hand hesitantly, the child didn't seem to really comprehend the command though and just looked at his brother with the same smile it had given Kenny, "Kyle!"

The boy frowned; he didn't like not being understood. Kenny watched the next few moments in mute horror.

"Are you ready, Ike?"

Ike shook his head, "No!" he burbled.

Kyle's leg drew back in an arc and Kenny realized too late why, "Kick the baby!"

As Ike flew across the hall crying, "Don't kick the baby!" Kenny finally unfroze, standing to his full height and ready to rush to the child's aid.

Ike, however, happily burbled and giggled when he landed, wandering off for his mother and leaving Kenny with his adrenaline pumping and nothing to do.

He turned to Kyle half ready to show the bratty bastard what it felt like to be kicked but the shit-head was already sweeping down the hall again.

"Follow me," he commanded as he went.

Kenny clenched and unclenched his hands.

Karen's life was in his hands. Without this 'position', they would be destitute. Kevin's life was in his hands.

He couldn't make a big deal over this.

He couldn't speak or he'd scream.

He shouldn't have moved. It caused him to storm forward, finding the arrogant assholes shoulder and spinning him like a top.

Kyle looked completely bewildered and Kenny had to actually bite his tongue to stop from yelling.

He tasted blood as he gripped the other boys shoulder and glared. Willing the boy to know. Willing the change he couldn't ask for but demanded.

Kyle tried to flinch away from his grip but couldn't escape it and cried out in pain, "Let go of me!"

 _Pain sure hurts, don't it?_ He wanted to taunt him. Take apart everything that made this piece of crap so disgusting. _Hurts a lot more when you're a defenseless baby._

He couldn't let the words out.

His hand dropped from Kyle's shoulder and he glared at his new master.

He could play obedient and play mute. He couldn't play evil.

"Do you really think he's ready for this level of responsibility?" Sheila scooped up her youngest son as he toddled over, babbling incoherently about his latest adventures as a toddler. Neither of his parents were listening.

Gerald sank into his armchair. He was ready for his wife's worrying but it didn't make it any less obnoxious.

"That's why we're giving him the responsibility. Worst case scenario, the pet dies and we have to get a new one. It's a good way for him to start learning responsibility."

Gerald omitted how displeased he would be if Kyle wasted the significant sum he'd paid for the damn pet. It wouldn't help him here.

Sheila nodded hesitantly. She wasn't sold.

"Should we have gotten him something else as well? He really doesn't like his gift."

"He'll understand with time the practicality of it. Don't worry so much; our boy is smart. Just give him time." Gerald kept his voice carefully even and pretended to focus on cleaning his glasses. "If you're so worried, I can keep a close eye on the situation."

Sheila relaxed a bit. Stroking Ike's head, she smiled at her husband, "Would you? I have my hands full with Ike already and we don't even know if the pet is house trained."

Gerald smiled reassuringly while he placed his glasses back on. "Don't worry, honey. I'll take care of it."

The thing was sitting silently in the corner of Kyle's room. Its eyes were still trained on him but with none of the fire from earlier.

Kyle restrained himself from gripping his shoulder. He felt like he probably had a hand shaped bruise there now. After the _thing_ had released him, it had lapsed back into placid silence, following him obediently.

Kyle wanted to run back to his father, show him the bruise, explain that his 'pet' was defective and demand a new one.

It was probably the quirk in the pet's expression that stopped him. He felt like he'd lose if he did that.

Besides, humans are supposed to be much weaker! Kyle didn't want to admit he'd felt scared, even for a moment, because of a _human_. That was worse than being beat up by a girl!

This human didn't seem weak though.

Kyle couldn't tell if he was dumb or mute or both. But weak was off the table. His ironclad grip and seering eyes were confirmation of that.

 _Kenny._

If he'd heard correctly. The thing had told Ike a name. Absurd.

His father had just said that the pet would be called anything he called it.

"Don't you talk?" Kyle snapped, wanting to confirm that the voice he'd heard had in fact been the pet.

It was a soft voice. Sweet and calm.

The pet showed no sign he'd even heard Kyle. It rankled him more than anything to be ignored and he shot to his feet, "Well?"

The pet watched him move. It was so quiet.

Kyle decided to go for broke, "I know you can! I heard you talk to Ike!"

There. It was subtle but the boy frowned. Kyle wanted to make an approach to get a closer look but decided against it after a throb from his shoulder reminded him that this particular human was dangerous.

"You're _my_ pet, how come you'll talk to Ike but not me?" he stomped once, hoping it made his point clear. He didn't bother to wait for an answer that probably wouldn't come. "Tell me your name or I'll give you a terrible one!"

The creature made no move. His expression as empty as ever. Kyle wondered if maybe he'd imagined any reaction and the voice. The damn thing was broken.

" _Fine_!" Kyle wracked his brain for something awful, something he would hate to be called, "What about _Princess_?"

No response.

Kyle frowned. This was getting him nowhere.

"If you're going to act like that, you don't deserve a name." Kyle decided, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'll just call you Pet. That's all you are."

No response. This was the worst birthday in Kyle's memory. Normally his parents would shower him in gifts and treats. This year they gave him a broken, mute, weird human thing. Kyle hated it.

"Get out of my sight!" Kyle huffed.

The boy stood and it caused Kyle to stumble backwards, nearly falling onto his bed. It was immediately apparent there was no need to back up though. The pet found his closet, opened the door, walked in, and closed it behind him.

Kyle reacted before his brain caught up, "Get out of my closet!"

The door opened and out came the boy, his face still a blank slate, but Kyle could _swear_ there was something twinkling in his eyes.

This time, it walked sedately over to Kyle and he jerked away, only to realize he was aiming for the bed. The pet crawled onto the bed and under the covers.

 _Get out of my sight._

Kyle blanched.

The dirty thing was on his _bed_. He was going to catch some awful human disease now!

"Get off of my bed!" his voice had gone up in pitch with his horror. Again, the boy obeyed but now crawled under the bed.

That was somehow the worst of all. Kyle backed away from his bed in a hurry. Fearful of the invisible boy who could now dart his vice like grip from anywhere beneath the curtain of sheets.

It clicked finally why this stupid thing was wandering his room.

"Come back to my sight." He reversed the order, hoping the thing chose to obey.

The pet revealed itself, standing up and closing the distance between them until they were almost nose to nose in one swift movement.

Kyle lost his balance and fell on his ass. He heard what sounded like a laugh but when he looked up the creature was as stone faced as ever.

Kyle colored. He was being _toyed_ with. The _pet_ was supposed to be the damn toy!

Kyle pointed hurriedly in a corner away from him, "Go over there!"

As with the previous commands, the creature obeyed. Kyle watched it go until he realized his mistake. He'd pointed towards the window.

He thought for a moment, just a moment, that it wouldn't matter. And then the pet unlatched the window, walking out onto the balcony. Kyle rushed to his feet and ran out, just in time to see the pet standing against the railing.

It was facing him. Kyle relaxed his shoulders. Why was he even worried? Even this defective creature wasn't dumb enough to…

Air caught in Kyle's throat as he saw his pet begin to fall backwards, a smile hiding the emptiness in his eyes.

Kyle shot forward just in time and took the boys hand, pulling him forcefully back away from the danger.

They both tumbled backwards into the room and Kyle felt like the air had been entirely knocked out of him. He could feel the pet breathing on top of him.

 _Breathing. Alive. Warm._

Kyle found air and found whatever parts of the boy he could grip, " _Don't_ do that!"

He hated the damn thing but he didn't want it to die.

The creature nodded into his chest but made no effort to escape his grip. Kyle realized too late that his desperation had led him to something resembling a hug and he scrambled back and away from the dumb thing.

The layers of clothes were disheveled now and Kyle could spot blond hair and that same twinkle in his eyes. Mischief?

It wasn't a kind expression. Kyle clenched his fists. So the damn thing would be obedient but required _specific_ instruction.

The temptation to complain to his parents reared itself again but he hated the idea of _losing_ to something so _stupid._

"Sit in the corner of the room. Don't cause trouble." Kyle stood, dusting himself off and heart still beating a mile a minute from the momentary panic. A thought occurred to him.

"Tell me your name."

Maybe it couldn't refuse a command. Kyle still couldn't stand that it hadn't spoken a word.

The creature said nothing, merely made its way back to the corner and watched him silently.

* * *

The night sky was expansive.

Kenny could hear Kyle's even breathing from inside the bedroom but he didn't bother to check that the brat stayed asleep.

The sky was large and covered in stars. Arguably only two, maybe three dull colors could be spotted at this time of night but all the same, it somehow felt more colorful than the well decorated house he stood just outside of.

It didn't feel lived in. Every room looked the same. Every decoration was neat and organized.

The sky let him imagine for a second he didn't have to go back inside the empty home. Gerald gave him goosebumps, Sheila was intimidating, and Kyle was the biggest brat he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. Ike seemed pretty okay. Kenny hoped that his gurgled baby speak was just his age and not caused by brain damage from one too many kicks.

If it turned out to be the latter, Kenny wasn't really sure what he'd do. On one hand, he had no obligation to this child who probably would grow to mistreat him as the rest of the family was intent on.

On the other hand, Ike was maybe three years old, at most, and his older brother was kicking him around. Kenny clenched his fist at the thought.

Any satisfaction he got by messing around with Kyle was constantly outweighed by the knowledge that he had no real power in this situation.

He couldn't protect the baby. He couldn't even protect himself.

The sky didn't make any such oppressive statements. It just hung stars like the beautiful lights he'd seen inside the house. Countless stars in the sky and there was no visible strain.

Kenny wondered if he could handle that weight. Holding up that many stars. He wanted to protect what little he could. As much as he could.

Karen. Kevin. The child from the pet shop. Ike.

Four stars and he wasn't sure he could handle the weight of even one.

How did the sky pull it off? He leaned against the ledge and let the cool night air caress his face and brush away his concerns.

For just a few hours before dawn, he could pretend, with the sky above it no different than his home in the shambles of lower town. There was no brat inside the room or stars he couldn't hold out of harm's way.

Free and expansive like the sky.

* * *

The house settled into the peace of night.

The halls were empty of servants, nannies, and tutors alike. The family set to rest in each of their luxurious beds and were sound asleep.

All but one.

Gerald sat in his office and took a sip from his glass before blanching at the taste.

It was harder to stomach the ridiculous diet his wife had him on with an even better option so close at hand.

Tonight, he would sip from this pathetic glass and write a series of pamphlets regarding a particularly cruel rumor he was going to spread. The Tucker family would have all sorts of fun answering inquiries about the validity of these claims. In particular, Thomas's whore of a wife would be on the receiving end of quite a few looks.

Tonight he would write and drink in peace.

 _Just for tonight._

He smiled into his work.

He'd have to wait. If he acted too quickly Sheila might get suspicious. It was important he created the right timing. The right opportunity.

Once he'd prepared the perfect timing… well, he'd be off this miserable diet and the thought alone was enough to delight him.

Getting Kyle a pet was the best idea idea he'd ever had.


End file.
